The fear of what that single traitor whom we had reason to believe was among us, would be able to do, was far greater than that of meeting all the redcoats Tarleton could bring against us, for the rank and file of our “ragged regiment” had not yet come to understand why we might fail to ride at ease through any body of the enemy that opposed our advance. At daybreak our brigade was on the march once more, the men weary to the verge of exhaustion, and the horses so jaded that they appeared unable to continue, even at a walk, a single mile farther. But yet we kept on over bogs and through swamps until arriving at Benbow’s Ferry, about ten miles above Kingstree, where was a strong natural camp. It was a place with which we were familiar. It commanded the ferry, and as within easy riding distance of all the country roundabout from which we must draw provisions and provender. As a rallying point it could not have been equalled in the Carolinas, and should we be hard pressed there were three difficult passes through the swamp in the rear where, if necessary, we might make a stubborn fight. Strong as was this position, General Marion set about strengthening it yet further. Trees were felled, breastworks built, and in eight and forty hours we were prepared to hold our own against Tarleton’s much-vaunted legion, reasoning that our defences made up for lack of numbers until we were fully the enemy’s equal. By this time those of our people who had been most confident in their ability to whip any force of the Britishers that might be sent against us were beginning to realize the mistake. Every one knew that General Marion was a leader who would willingly take desperate chances, and if he was doubtful of the issue, then did it seem reasonable to believe there was good cause for prudence. Again, Colonel Richardson’s reputation was such that no person could accuse him of being over-cautious, and, take it all in all, we of the “ragged regiment” were coming to understand that while we had had wonderful success thus far, we were not as formidable as many had fancied. Now, however, we were convinced that a decisive battle would soon be fought, but it was not destined that the struggle in the Carolinas should be brought to so speedy a conclusion. Tarleton pursued our “ragged regiment,” having learned that we were much the same as fleeing before him, losing time here and there to burn dwellings which sheltered only women and children, until he was come to within less than twelve miles of our camp, when, to the surprise of enemies as well as friends, he turned suddenly about, marching with all speed to Camden.